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The High Road
The High Road is the nineteenth level of Crashie's Sexxy Maiden Voyage. Crash has just scored a major coup by non-fatally assassinating the majestic Pinstripe Potoroo in his Cortex Power office. Crashie's short-lived celebration is short-lived, however, as he discovers the horrifying truth: the commute from Cortex Castle to Cortie Powie is a fucking cunt. For some reason, the only way to get between the two is by crossing a rickety old rope bridge. Wait - where did we see rickety rope bridges before? That is something we saw before, in the old New Nativitanian territory, coincidentally enough! This is no coincidence, for this level takes place within the home of the former New Nativitafarian Movement. This noble spiritual entity consisted of a bunch of goddamn kids who liked smoking the reprehensible cannabis plant, or as it's slangily known on the streets, "marihuana". When Dr. Neo Cortex bought the island for his own private consumption, he made sure to get rid of them, to death. Well, anyway. Those goddamn kids died, but their malnourished Vibrating Wooden Turtles live on, even in death. At least the Professional Wartie Impersonators who starred in all their favourite stoner comedies live on, I guess. Meh. Whatever. This level sucks so much, you'll be itching to say, "Goodbye, road!" The Sequel to the New Nativitan Empire: The Whimsical Tale of a Bunch of Idiots, Their Felonious Flora, and Substandard Standards of Pet Reptile Care It was the year 1985. Ronald "Wilson" Reagan was in office, but that's irrelevant, for it is in Australia that this story lies. And the surrounding oceanic area. A bunch of Aussie kids were sick and tired of being pushed around by the law. (Australia, you see, was originally where the Brits sent their dirty, dirty murderous criminals. So, you see, law enforcement is a rather sore subject for them.) They wanted the chance to smoke cannabismal things without fearing retaliation, and they would do anything to justify it. Yes, even bastardize cherished spiritual and historical traditions! Centuries after the hilarious demise of Emperor Wuu's empire, these goddamn kids realised their personal belief in the awesomeness of smoking weed, all the time, constantly, forever, stupidly enough, nicely lined up with Emperor Wuu's belief in the same. Aforementioned goddamn kids were obviously thrilled with the prospect of being able to get high all day under the shoddy guise of following a great historical figure in a noble spiritual quest, and thus they came up with the terrific idea of starting up the New Nativitafarian Movement. Their unnamed colony was nobly founded on the shores of some shitty little abandoned island. Life in Unnamed Nativitafarian Colony was rough. Food was scarce, which is obviously a problem with a group of people whose lifestyle entails 24/7 munchies. They can't just waltz upstairs and prepare five consecutive half-assed dishes all involving cheese and noodles in some way, reaping the foody benefits but leaving the cheesy pots and pans out for days and days until they stink up the house to the point where some sort of beardly brother figure and his vaguely effeminate liegeman are forced to clean it up themselves while you remain downstairs in your sweltering pit of sorrow playing zombie-themed "entertainment" on your Microsoft Xbox 360, no sirree! They cannot do this, because they are on a desert island, which does not have cheese or noodles. Or stairs. Or pots and pans. Or beardly brother figures with vaguely effeminate liegemen. And, um, the Xbox 360 was not yet invented in 1985. Some suggested growing crops, but backed off from this idea when they realised that every stalk of corn was occupying space where they could've planted a pot plant. Others suggested taking advantage of the native plantlife of the island. These goddamn stoner kids were obviously very, very disappointed when they realised that, despite what goddamn-stoner-kid-favourite situation comedy Gilligan's Island had told them, one actually cannot fashion picture-perfect coconut cream pies out of the raw materials present on any given desert island. "John Denver betrayed us," they cried! (They meant Bob Denver.) Fortunately, they finally convinced the Tribesanistan Tribesandwichstand to deliver to the island. People who are very, very high just looooove sandwiches, after all. Problem solved! The New Nativitafarians were extremely thankful to the Wuumeister, for giving them the excuse to live the entirety of their lives in a depressing single-minded haze. They paid lazy tribute to him by building a lazy reconstruction of his empire's famous lazy bridge construction. They even offered up the sluttiest of their women as incentive for contractors to come and build them a shitty temple of "worship". Emperor Wuu would've been thrilled to see just how badly they were bastardizing the famous landmarks of his beloved New Nativitan Empire. He would've been less thrilled once he found out that they had achieved it, in part, by selling icky, icky sex. Even in death, Wuu did not like the sexings. Like many goddamn stoner kids, the New Nativitafarians thought owning reptiles as pets was awesome. They took in the local Vibrating Wooden Turtle population and raised them as their own. Unfortunately, they did not receive anything approaching proper care. People who are actually turtles don't looooove sandwiches, at all. Turtles don't like mayonnaise, you see. Not even light mayonnaise. (Haha, who am I kidding? Nobody likes light mayonnaise!) Also, turtles really don't have the sort of anatomy required to tolerate being forcibly fashioned into impromptu bongs. The price the New Nativitafarians paid for "awesome" pet ownership, was to leave a trail of turtley death and destruction in their wake. But mayhap we shan't complain, for their non-vibrating wooden corpses do help out Crashie a lot in this stage. Haha, Crashie reaps the benefits of cruel and persistent animal abuse! That's so wacky! You're so wacky, Crashie! Hahaha! The New Nativitafarian Movement was short-lived, of course. A few years later, one Dr. Neo Cortex, a recent graduate of the prestigious Harvard School of Professional Evil, decided that it would be nifty to own his own island. THIS island. And he had no intention of sharing the island with a bunch of lowly goddamn stoner kids. "Go crack or go home" - that was Cory's motto. Kindly Uncle Cortie evicted his new tenants, by brutally slaughtering them. This is notable as it would turn out to be the one and only professional accomplishment in his entire fucking career. Trivia *This level's name is a reference to the Roxy Music EP of the same name, released in 1983. Like the EP, this level is annoying, shoddily constructed, and the work of terrible, irredeemable drug addicts. *Mediocre R&B songstress JoJo would later release a studio album entitled The High Road in 2006. One can assume that she was inspired to do so by this level's legendary difficulty. Alternately, I suppose it's possible that she named it after the aforementioned Roxy Music EP....but that would be both less fun, and less relevant, so we're just going to pretend that's not the case, alright? *This level also has an unknown relationship to the The Drew Carey Show episode "The High Road to China". Given his crippling alcoholism, it is possible that Carey simply misinterpreted this game's whimsical setting. Um. He was in the right hemisphere, at least? *While this level starts out cheery enough, with its adorable turtle-based enemies, as the stage goes on, Crash encounters only the abandoned shells of turtles that died out many years ago. Many fans theorize that this was Naughty Dog's attempt to send a bold message to other game developers around the world that turtle enemies - such as rival Nintendo's famous Shellcreepers - are outdated, and it's time for the industry to move on. Let's innovate, people! Innovation, I tell you! (Naughty Dog went on to include more turtle-based enemies in this game's sequel, Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes His Wife, Repeatedly, Because He Wrongly Suspects Her of Having an Affair with the Milkman. This is because Naughty Dog is full of fucking hypocrites. Yes, even Mark Cerny. Especially Mark Cerny!)